#sysidereus

[sysullivan]

Send “📸 ” plus a thread we have or should have and I will make a mood board/aesthetic for it! - Accepting!

@sysidereus - The Letter

“Did you really get this far?” Sullivan asked, already mid-reach for the assignment he’d sent ‘home’ with his pupil the night before. He could see the edge of what he concluded was a page marker peeking out from the book and, he already looked and sounded impressed. 

The spine opened willingly in his lap, revealing its contents to him as it had many times before. Now, it isn’t uncommon for someone to pick up a book they haven’t read in a long time and discover something new; something they’d completely missed before, but Sullivan couldn’t possibly have guessed what he’d find this time. 

‘Sidereus’ is scrawled on the outside of the envelope. The letter is heavy when Sullivan picks it up, multiple pages folded multiple times. He frowns and the hair on the back of his neck stands up when he realizes it is sealed.

He should not be looking at this. He should not be touching it. He feels like he’s intruded on something sacred; something cherished. He looks up, panic in his eyes when realizes Sid is standing in front of him, staring at him. His cheeks immediately flush with scarlet-tinged regret. The expression on Sid’s face is unreadable to Sullivan and he thinks it is perhaps worse that he can’t easily identify what kind of upset he is.

Sullivan looks down, lashes lowering to his cheeks, his gaze glued to slender fingers as he carefully returns the letter back where it had been tucked and closes the book around it. He wishes Sid would say something. He wishes he would answer the questions that are burning in his mind. Why? Why is he carrying around this tattered old letter? Who is it from? How long has he had it? Isn’t he going mad from not know what it says?! Why hasn’t he opened it?! Goosebumps break across Sullivan’s skin when Sid does speak up and gives him all the answer he needs. 

“I wanted...to read it myself.”

Sullivan’s lips part; slowly, smoothly. Softly, he smiles as he lifts his gaze to Siderius, eyes alight with intrigue and a renewed motivation for the task at hand. 

“Then we’ve got our work cut out for us, don’t we?”

[syxsol-blog]

[x]

 “You talk like I don’t know these things.” A short noise leaves him, almost like a defeated laugh. “I have seen so many sides of the same argument from different people. I am one person in a vast universe. My odds are always unlikely. What could I possibly do to alter the current state of the verse?”

He shakes his head.

“We didn’t know each other back then, you were a stranger. Still, you helped. For that, I’m still grateful to you.” And he doesn’t hesitate to express it. Sidereus never had to help him, but he still freed those slaves despite the risk. “Your opinions are yours. Your beliefs are yours. I can’t change your mind. But… now we know each other. We work together. I want to trust you. How can I trust someone that thinks slavery is a necessary thing? A normal injustice that we can’t do anything about? That same attitude landed me in the ownership of someone else. It doesn’t matter if you weren’t the one to put me or them into slavery.”

And he pauses, because this is the story Sol left behind before he boarded Serenity. This is the part of himself he conceals with his chatty nature and ridiculous antics.

“Someone has to care.” He nods, fisting the front of his shirt as his heart hammers in his chest. This is the most honest he has ever been to Sidereus. It is honesty that burns his throat and unfurls inside his chest until Sol feels like he’s being split open. “You can call me foolish. You can call me stupid, and naive, a child-- I’ve heard it all. I know what people think. I’ve thought all of these things about myself. But I believe as long as someone cares, something can change. Change is always gradual, and painful, and messy. Change isn’t always good.”

Change is war. Change tears families apart. Change is scars and tears and pain, if not on one end, then the other. This is a reality he understands.

“But you tell me-- you tell me not to give a shit about anyone but myself. I can’t do that. Just like you can’t change the core of yourself to make me feel better. I care about the world. I care about people that possibly wouldn’t bat an eyelash if I suddenly died. I take chances on people. I risk it. I care because no one was there to care about me when they put a brand on my back. No one cared when they sold my time and passed me from hand to hand until I no longer wanted to live.”

His voice breaks and he bites the inside of his cheek. Eyes sting, but he doesn’t want to cry in front of Sidereus.

“We’ll move on, yeah?” His expression softens for only a moment before he masks it all. “I won’t try to change your mind from here on out. So don’t try to change mine.”

[syxhenry]

Sid never trusted Henry to take care of the Serenity again after that explosion. He always scolds him when he see's him touching anything near the motor reminding him of the incident. However he's curious enough to see the gadgets Henry works on and sometimes asks him to explain the mechanics of it.

headcanon: (begrudgingly) accepted

however sid can kiss his ass (metaphorically or a certain priest might try and murder him) no one tells henry how to take care of his own baby. one scolding to many and henry will literally create a device that recognises sidereus at the door and sends annoying little shockwaves to him until he leaves again. (don’t put this past henry, he does not like someone who is not an engineer interfering with his work omg)

when he’s being nice and he asks about things out of curiosity, henry will be more than happy to explain, though

[sycasta]

☆☘ ♨

☆ : Of the sun, stars, and the moon, which is your muse’s favorite?

“I like stars. I think they’re really pretty. I’m a sucker for somthin’ sparkly.” 

☘ : Does your muse believe in luck? How about fate?

“I like to think there’s somethin’ like luck out there. I mean, I was lucky enough to get on this ship and lucky enough to meet everyone. Maybe there is some luck out there, you know? As for fate? Nah. You gotta take what you want and go for it.” 

♨ : Does your muse have good table manners? How do they feel about bad table manners?

“Impeccable. I’m a very proper boy. My father had me and my siblings take etiquette classes so really, I have pretty decent manners. Now... being on this ship and around some of the... hooligans, I’ll admit I’ve been slacking so I can’t really say on bad table manners since I don’t use my best.” 

[syxjaewon]

💭💭💭 (blows kiss)

this asshole

i wonder how many of my crew he’s already fucked–he looks like he just goes around having sex with everyone

i should get one of my mercs to kill him so i can take his cigarettes…. but who…. hmmm

[syphineas-blog]

send me ‘☾’ for an aesthetic of our muses, or send me a ‘⚡’ for a moodboard of our muses.

— usually, i wouldn’t really care about what others choose but...seeing you hiding yourself under a mask reminds me a lot of my days before where i’ve been chained down by lies like you do now. and there’s no liberty in that. ❞

[syminseo]

👀 what are your biggest fears little lady?

Now this is a question that stops Minseo. It isn’t that Minseo is particularly fearless, but more likely to avoid even confronting her fears at all. For all her bravado, Minseo was safe most of the time inside of Serenity with the doors locked if things went to hell. That wasn’t what scared her. “Being alone,” Minseo mumbled, looking at her nails with a scowl.

She noticed Sid looking like he was waiting for her to elaborate. A frown tugged at her lips as she continued, “Look. Every time someone like Cap walks out those doors, it ain’t one hundred percent certain he’s coming back. And one day, he won’t. It’s just. I don’t want that. I want everyone here and with me. I don’t wanna be waiting for someone who never comes back again, okay?”

She tosses a crumpled up paper at Sid, “Now get out of my cockpit for making me upset!”

[syxsol-blog]

▲ Did I... Did i hurt you that much?

Certain people are reminders. They become the past in living, breathing form, always bludgeoning the present. Sid is one of those reminders, even as much as Sol tries to move on from what happened. He can’t keep carrying ghosts of Sid’s beliefs. 

“It’s not about hurt, Sid.” He’s not hurt. It’s an entirely different sort of weight that settles on his mind every time he’s in the same room with the other boy. “You broke my trust.”